A Shattering Mind
by RavenOfFrost
Summary: When the drugs start to take over, Sherlock begins to lose his control on them and his mind begins to break to darker areas. Sherlolly at the end. TRIGGER: Suicidal thoughts.
1. Chapter 1

**Characters belong to BBC's Sherlock.**

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The mind of Sherlock Holmes is brilliant and complex. Being the only consulting detective in the world certainly says something, but the thing about ingenious minds… they can break easier in certain areas. Especially being on drugs and that was exactly what he has been doing for the last couple of years.

Drugs that he could no longer control.

Alone in his flat on 221B Baker Street, his mind was beginning to shatter. Laying on the couch, dressed in loose pants and over-sized shirt with a light robe, fear was pulsing through his veins as he was starting to lose control over the drugs for the first time. Staring at the ceiling, fighting the impulses that the drugs began to whisper to him. He ran out of the substance and was beginning to itch for them, but was fighting the cravings. He went to his Mind Palace to clear his thoughts, but would go into places that he locked deeply away, but found himself standing over the edge of the roof of St. Bart's.

"You can just die again," a familiar voice spoke.

Sherlock's head whipped over his right shoulder as the scene began to turn back to his flat, finding himself looking into the eyes of a smiling Moriarty. "Go away," he ordered, dryly, turning his gaze back to the ceiling.

This was not what he wanted from his Mind Palace, then again… the lingering drugs were taking over.

"Aww. Don't be like that." Moriarty slowly frowned, his dark gaze upon the detective. "It won't be hard," his voice was low. "Dying, you know. It just happens." He smiled darkly. "You should try it. You might enjoy it. Could be even you new drug." He gave small shrug. "For a short time, of course."

"Shut up," Sherlock snapped, not wanting to think about that as he was trying not to worry about his lack of control of his own mind. He tried to think of another person like his best friend or girlfriend, but Moriarty stayed.

"You lied to them," the consulting criminal stated. "All of them. You told that you were no longer on drugs, but now look. You're alone."

Sherlock felt the guilt begin to gnaw at him.

It was true that he lied to John, Molly, his brother, and everyone that he was sober. Now here he was... Laying here trying to gain back control.

"They'll hate you for it," Moriarty continued as began to walk around the flat in a wondering manner. "They will never trust you again. You nearly died last overdose." He pause. "Didn't scare you. No. Didn't scare you at all. You could do it many ways," the criminal faced him again, looking at him with dark energy. "Like doing it again. But you don't have any." He lowered his hand to his side as he gave a pitiful shake of the head. "No. You don't. Used it up two hours ago."

Sherlock was now ignoring him, relieved that he, himself, did not have the damned drug at the moment. The words that stuck with him however, was the part when his friends may never trust him after the coverups.

"You can make your own special concoction. You're a chemist."

Those words made his blood run cold as that got his attention, but tried not to show it.

Moriarty, being part of his mind at the moment, felt it.

"Oh, you heard that that one. I can just see it now," he spread his arms to form a headliner, "'Sherlock Holmes poisons self in flat'." He eagerly smiled at the detective as he ooed. "What will you use? Cyanide? Arsenic?… Ammonia?"

"Shut up!" Sherlock barked as he leapt off the couch and stormed past the mental apparition to the fireplace mantel to think clearer. "I won't be poisoning myself," he coldly growled.

"Then what will you do?" Moriarty quietly asked over the shattering detective's shoulder. "Your time is coming, Sherlock. You know it is. Otherwise you wouldn't have me here. You just need a little push to it. You need help, Sherlock. It's okay. Last time you faked it and planned it out with your friends and brother. This time you're all alone. You're new to this." His voice was mocking.

"I don't want to die," he snapped, not looking at his enemy.

"That's a lie, Sherlock," the man whispered. "I can feel it your mind. I know you wish for it."

"What would the reason be?" He emotionlessly asked.

"The drugs are winning. The drugs are taking over. You're losing control and your mind is weaker than you think. You're breaking, Sherlock. You even lied to your loved ones. Everyone believed you were clean. Even your little girlfriend." He began to step back as his voice grew darker. "Your brilliant mind is cracking like a mirror. So how are you going to do it? Hanging? Falling? No, you've already did that. You have a gun. No pain. Nothing."

Sherlock listened, then a strange sound of glass cracking entered his thoughts, making him turn to the large window on his right and saw the glass beginning to crack. He slowly stepped back in fear as the cracks began to spread like veins over the window.

"Your mind is going to shatter," Moriarty muttered as if bored over the cracking. "You will end up like the window."

The window was now completely covered with jagged cracks, not one spot unscathed.

"Just takes one bullet."

The detective's eyes were wide with cold dread. He didn't want to die. He never wanted to die. Why now? Why like this? Why couldn't he get control of his own mind? Was it just the drugs or was there something else that he was missing? He really was losing control...

"Don't worry," Moriarty soothed. "Just accept it. Your girlfriend's going to be home soon." He then whispered, "Get the gun."

Sherlock began to shake his head, thinking of Molly, his pathologist and girlfriend. "No. No. I can't I-"

A noose fell from the ceiling in front of him.

He stared at it with horror as he could look right through the hole of the rope to the cracked window.

"You're making this happen, Sherlock. You are causing this," Moriarty's voice grew darker and taunting.

"Then I can stop this." He looked at the man to his side with a sense of power. It was his Mind Palace after all. He could stop this.

"How can you when you know you want it? How can you stop it when you know what is going to happen? Accept it!" He shouted with anger. "You lied to everyone! Now the great Sherlock Holmes is slowly dying from drugs and wont admit it! Think of the aftermath, Sherlock! You drug-adicted liar!"

* * *

Molly made her way to the flat with a grocery bag in hand. Unlocking and opening the door, she found Sherlock laying on the couch with his hands together in front of his lips. "I got some milk," she announced with a smile as she was heading towards the kitchen, not expecting him to say much when he's in this state.

"Molly?" A low and baritone voice asked, catching her attention as she opened the fridge.

She placed the milk away, closed the door, and stepped out to the living room, looking at him with a small smile of wonder. "Hmm?"

"I lied. I didn't quit the drugs." He turned his head to her and his eyes were red with tears with a distraught on his narrow face. "I'm sorry. I didn't-"

"What do you mean you didn't quit?" She questioned as she crossed her arms with pain and anger entering her heart, disbelieving his words.

"Molly, I-"

"You've been lying this whole time?" She cried, remembering that her boyfriend kept saying that he was sober and whatnot, but then again he was Sherlock. He had many ways of lying. For six months he was lying?

His hands fell to his sides as he looked at her begging, pain-filled eyes. "Please, Molly. Just listen-"

"When was the last time you took them?" She yelled.

"Mol-"

"When?"

"After you left," he sighed, looking away with his eyes. "The last of what I had."

She roughly shook her head, not looking at him. Anger and disappointment was twisting her heart. That was only two or so hours ago. "When were you planning on telling me? Telling John?" She forced herself to ask, not wanting to hear the answer.

"I wasn't," he whispered.

Molly didn't look at him.

The hurt of lies was too much. Especially when it came to her brilliant boyfriend's health. She didn't want to look at him. It was too painful to look at. Taking a shaky breath as she tried not to cry, she looked at him with pain. "How could you?" She whispered. "How could you lie about that? After when you nearly overdosed the last time." Tears began to burn her eyes. "Remember that? Remember when Mrs. Hudson found you half dead?" She shouted. The memory of getting the call from John about the news still scared her.

Sherlock slowly stood up, taking a heavy breath. "Molly. I know that it's horrible. I will stop this. I will become-"

"How can I trust you?" She shouted on the verge of tears.

He looked at her with puzzlement.

Molly shook her head with negative emotions stirring inside her. Just as her head whipped to the left, she spotted something on the table that caught her eye. Walking up to with curiosity, her heart stopped as she slowly picked up a handgun. "What is this doing here?" She whispered half to herself, hoping that it was not what she feared.

"Molly. I-" Sherlock tried to speak, but his words froze.

She slowly looked at her boyfriend with horror and fear. "You tried to kill yourself?" She asked quietly.

"Contemplating," he quickly corrected.

The woman slowly nodded her head as if accepting his answer, but then slammed the gun on the table. "You thinking about shooting yourself?" She shouted with rage. "How could you- Why would you- You are mad!" She had no words that could describe what she was feeling. It was all too much at once!

"I am losing control of the drugs!" He hollered back, life returning to his pain-filled eyes. "I lost more control than I ever imagined! I am going be get clean. I'm going to stop all of this." He began to calm down as his grey eyes were locked with her own. "I was scared of telling you and the others that I lied. I didn't know what else to do. The drugs were taking over…" His voice faded as he quickly looked away with self-anger. "I began to lose my mind. Thinking things I would never have dared to think before." He looked back at her with pain and heartache in his lovely eyes. "The only reason was I didn't pull that trigger was because I wasn't ready to give up yet. I am going win this fight without the drugs." His eyes began to soften. "Forgive me, Molly. For all the lies about the addiction. I am truly-"

She threw her arms around his neck, burring her face in his chest. "Please get better," she quietly begged as tears rolled down her cheeks. "Please stop this, Sherlock. Your mind is too great to lose and… I would miss you." She closed her eyes tightly as she refused to let go of him, fearing that she was going to lose him forever. "I love you, Sherlock," she whispered.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around her and held her little body tight. "I will. I promise. I love you, too Molly Hooper." He kissed her forehead. "My Molly Hooper."

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**I hoped you enjoyed it and thanks for reading. **


	2. Chapter 2

The day after the incident, Sherlock began to work on getting sober and Molly delicately told John about what had happened while the two of them were stepping out of the lab. The doctor sadly shook his head with anger and pain as he didn't look at Molly, but looked at the detective through the window of the door. "I'm done with his suicides," he bitterly muttered. He turned back at her, but didn't look her in the eyes. "I'm now worried that he'll-" His voice faded as he swallowed, not wanting to carry on the thought.

Molly sighed as her heart ached. "I know. He's working on it," she told him. "He is going to get random tests and after what happened, I'm sure it struck some sense into him." She hoped that it was true. She was wasn't ready to come home to finding her beloved boyfriend dead in his flat with a note or with a syringe in his hand. "We just have to be supportive and stay by his side."

"But six months," he whispered as he looked into her eyes with pain.

"I know. I know." She looked down with her eyes, biting her lip, still not believing that he kept that hidden for six months.

John placed a hand to his forehead as he walked around a little with a sigh, then stopped and looked at the working detective through the window. His hand fell to his side as pain and worry grew over his face. "I don't want to go through another suicide." He sadly smirked. "I really don't want to."

Molly placed a hand on his shoulder. "Me too," she muttered. She may have helped the detective fake his death, but there was no way she was going to let him die. Especially permanently. That was one too many times for him to die.

The two of them just watched Sherlock through the window in silence as he was looking through a microscope, not caring if he noticed them or not, but more than likely, he didn't. His narrow eyes were so concentrated on what they were studying as his mind was thinking. His mind was too brilliant to waste and so was he.

* * *

A week had past.

A week exactly from the incident when Molly was going to say the night at 221B Baker Street. So far there were no signs of the drugs or of him using them, then again… Neither had any of that was seen for six months. She was wearing an oversized shirt when they were turning in for bed, but she stopped by the doorway, just watching her boyfriend with concern as she gently tapping her two fingers together. It was on this day a week ago she could've found her boyfriend dead.

"Molly?"

"Hm?" His baritone voice caught her attention.

"Are you coming?" He was already laying in bed in the dark room.

Silently she made her way to the bed, crawled under the sheets, and cuddled close to Sherlock's chest, making him automatically hold her. "Sherlock?" She began meekly.

"Hm?"

It sounded like he was tired.

"I know it's too soon to ask, but are you sure that you're getting sober?"

"What makes you-"

She was trying to fight the tears as she rested her head on his arm. "You lied for six months," she whispered as a tear escaped. How was she supposed to trust him after that? Half a year that was kept hidden and now she was supposed to trust him?

He held her close and kissed her head. "I haven't touched the stuff since that day," he told her in a low and groggy voice. "I promise you I'll past the upcoming test. Whenever that may be." He began to get drowsy. "Don't fret, Molly."

Molly said nothing, rolling over with her back to him, but still close and with his arm around her waist. She placed a hand over his own, fearing of what if it would turn cold and stiff. Fighting the thought, she closed her eyes tightly. _He is alive, _she told herself. _His heart is beating and he is alive. No drugs of any sort are flowing though those veins… I hope. _She remembered walking into the flat, only to see her boyfriend on the brink of tears and him telling her that he lied. It was only seven days ago that she found the gun on the table, only with him telling that he was contemplating to-

Did he even place the gun to his head?

The thought made her open her eyes with dread, staring into the darkness as Sherlock was heavily breathing behind her.

She didn't want to imagine the thought of Sherlock sitting on the couch with the gun placed to his temple and finger on the trigger, only thinking if he should pull it or not. Well, she did imagine it and it scared her. She could just see him setting the gun down and laying back on the couch, not ready to give up. No. He was not ready to give up the fight.

Sherlock Holmes was not going to give up.

She took a deep breath to calm herself as she closed her eyes, remembering that he told her that the only thing that stopped him was the he was not going to give up.

He was a fighter and a defender.

Molly knew that he wasn't going admit it, but she knew that he wasn't ready to leave her, John, or the others… The other reason why he didn't do it.

"Molly," his drousy voice suddenly spoke.

She knew that his sharp mind sensed her concern.

"I'm not going anywhere. Trust me."

She slowly smiled as her mind began to soothe, knowing that it was true. "I do, my love."

The rest of the night was peaceful as the two fell asleep and woke up, still in each others arms.

* * *

Five days after was the test.

A confidant Sherlock along with a nervous friend and girlfriend were waiting in the lab for the results.

When they came out, Molly looked at the results on the computer with John over her shoulder and the two smiled at each other with relief. Molly was relieved to see that Sherlock was clean. So relieved that she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him strongly.

John gave a proud pat on his friend's shoulder when they couple pulled apart, who just looked bored and confused to see all the excitement.

"I told you I was clean," he dryly told them as he looked at the pair. A small humorous smile formed over his thin lips. "I thought you had more trust in me than that."

"Well, we're just glad that you don't have that crap in your veins," John smirked. "Let alone with a bullet in your brain."

Sherlock smirked at that. "I suppose you're right about that." He then looked at the two of the with disappointment. "Clearly you two had less faith in me."

"You lied for six months, Sherlock," John stated.

"You got to admit, I lied pretty well." There was humor in his grey eyes.

Molly lightly slapped her boyfriend's arm. "Too well," she grumbled, looking at him in the eyes. "This is something to proud of otherwise you would've lost the brain of yours."

"That would be awful, wouldn't it?" He asked as he looked straight ahead of himself in a pondering manner.

"Is that the only thing that stopped you?" John asked, earning both of their attention. "Just not wanting to give up? You faked your suicide once already!"

Sherlock gave a small shrug. "I suppose I didn't want Mrs. Hudson or Molly to walk into my suicide. That would've been depressing."

"Like I checked your pulse on your supposedly dead body?" John snapped.

"I already apologized for that," the detective muttered.

"Just no more suicides? Alright?" John asked, making sure that it was the plan.

Sherlock smirked. "No more suicides."

The doctor gave a curt nod of the head. "Yeah. Glad that's settled."

Molly hugged her boyfriend, resting her head on his chest with a smile on her face. "I love you."

He wrapped his arms around her and said quietly, "I love you, too."

The pathologist didn't want to let him go as she closed her eyes, relieved that his first test was clean and knew that this wasn't going to be an easy journey, but they were going to pull through. They always did.

"Um… Yeah," she heard John say. "I'll just… Leave you to your hugging fest."

She felt Sherlock give him a small wave to shoo behind her back, making her giggle.

The sound of John's footsteps began to grow distant as the couple lovingly kissed each other, then the doors opened and closed, leaving the two alone.

Molly savored the kiss as she wrapped her arms around his neck and closed her eyes, knowing that he was not going anywhere any time soon.

Sherlock Holmes was never going to go down without a fight.

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**I want to thank you for favoriting and reviewing it really helps and am much obliged. I hoped you enjoyed it.**

**Also, I will be turning this into a full-length story called **_**Words Never Meant to be Said.**_


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